


In Which Dr. Watson Experiences a Rite of Passage

by exbex



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...quite, as this author has read some (truly lovely) stories in which an asexual or other-priorities driven Sherlock is a virgin until John Watson, and decided to explore the flip side of such an equation</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Dr. Watson Experiences a Rite of Passage

When he was sixteen, he and Lucy were both so nervous they just ended up having a good snog.  
At seventeen, he was trying to get off with an “older” woman of twenty-two. She rolled her eyes at him four times before they were properly undressed, and he had a sudden premonition of her patting him on the head if they ever managed to finish.  
At nineteen, he was engaging in the best snogging of his life with Daniel, his brilliant, gorgeous classmate. He was primed, ready, and then Daniel informed him that it wouldn’t be real unless he let Daniel fuck him, and sneered when John told him he wasn’t ready. John had never lost an erection faster.  
Afghanistan was all death and blood and heat and fear.  
Sometimes John wondered if he should tell Sarah or not, but it became a moot point the seventh or eighth time their date was interrupted by a case. By the ninth date, Sarah dropped the let’s be friends line on him, John behaved like a perfect gentleman, walked her to her door, kissed her on the cheek, and then hailed a cab back to Baker Street.  
Sherlock may have deduced it from the heaviness of John’s steps, or perhaps the weary look on his face. “No luck, I take it?”  
John stiffened. Sherlock had never mentioned anything sexual, aside from disparaging Anderson and Donovan. The fact that he was starting now made John begin to grind his teeth together. “It’s none of your business, Sherlock” he tried to reply civilly.  
“It is when your mattress makes a particular squeak every time you masturbate, which has been increasing in frequency lately. It’s terribly distracting since I’m trying to calculate just how long it’s been since you’ve engaged in actual sexual congress instead of focusing on…”  
“Never, Sherlock! Literally, never. Mystery solved. Now if you’d please keep that brain of yours out of my business…” John stormed out, and was two-thirds of the way down the stairs before he remembered that he now truly had nowhere to go. Feeling incredibly defeated, he sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands, not looking up when he heard Sherlock’s footsteps behind him and felt the brush of Sherlock’s arm against his as he sat down.  
It was several minutes before Sherlock spoke. “Would you like to go to bed with me John?”  
A mercy fuck. Sherlock bloody Holmes was offering him a mercy fuck. Being nearly blown up, shooting a psychopath, being abducted, had nothing on the incredible awfulness of this night.  
“Because I find the idea rather appealing, myself, and I’ve deduced that you’re attracted to me…”  
“Of course you have,” John mumbled from behind his hands. He took them away from his face and proceeded to offer his list of once-prospective partners and the reasons things had always fizzled, not because he thought Sherlock needed to hear the reasons, but to make himself feel less pathetic.  
“Well, for what it’s worth, John, I may have purposely sabotaged some of your dates with Sarah.”  
John managed to crack a wry grin. “Yes, I think Sarah managed to figure it out.”  
Sherlock’s eyes brightened. “She’s smarter than I thought.”  
John stood, holding his hand out. “Take me to bed Sherlock.”  
It was more unnerving than John could have anticipated, all of his insecurities seeming to come out of nowhere. It was awkward and fantastic, arms and legs and sheets all tangled together, hip bones jutting uncomfortably into John, fluids everywhere. John knew he probably had the most ridiculous, dazed expression on his face, but couldn’t be arsed to care.  
He managed to lift his head when Sherlock disappeared and then returned with a warm, wet towel. He grinned as Sherlock carefully cleaned him off. “Can I get used to this kind of treatment?”  
“Probably not,” Sherlock replied.  
“How surprising,” John said, and he had a more clever retort, but he was rapidly fading, drifting off to sleep as he felt Sherlock’s weight settle beside him.


End file.
